


Blood Moon

by whalehuntingboyfriends



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Gods AU, Hurt/Comfort, Sky Factory AU, minecraft au, the others are there as background characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-05 03:33:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12182094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whalehuntingboyfriends/pseuds/whalehuntingboyfriends
Summary: The Dark God and the Solar Queen are fierce rivals, both striving to create the most energy to power the world they’re building. When a cruel trick by Ryan goes a little too far, he’s forced to face just how important Gavin’s become to him without him realising.





	1. genesis

**PART I. GENESIS**

"Miserable wretch," Ryan breathes, "You're insufferable," but he's still the one who opens the door and lets Gavin slip into his house.  

It's past midnight. The others are asleep and below, in the Underworld, the gentle moans and grunts of the beasts are beginning. Ryan's house protrudes from the platform of their factory, an imposing structure of dark obsidian, the redstone lamps giving the black interior a hellish crimson glow. But as Gavin flounces inside he lights up the room with the damnable sunlight that seems to follow him everywhere, spinning around and planting his hands on his hips as he backs towards the bed.

"I told you to leave me alone tonight," Ryan continues, stalking forward. His chest is tight with that feeling Gavin always gives him, an edge between anger and sheer _want_ , something with rough sharp edges that makes every nerve ending feel raw. 

"You're just cross because I used your iron. There'll be more," Gavin says, tilting his head, "Jack's working on it."

Ryan comes right up against his chest and Gavin stares up at him. His green eyes dance with spots of shimmering gold and his skin sparkles even in the darkness of the house. A rough shove sends him sprawling back against the bed and he giggles, light and airy, as Ryan crawls in on top of him, biting angrily at his neck, the gold bangles around his thin arms jingling as he rests his hands lightly on Ryan's shoulders.

"Poor Dark God," Gavin says, a mocking tilt in his voice, "Didn't get what he wanted the second he wanted it."

"Selfish Queen," Ryan growls back, and likes the way Gavin gasps when he gathers his wrists in one hand and pins them above his head, "Took things that didn't belong to him."

"I was _creating_ ," Gavin hisses, and Ryan pushes one strong leg between his.

"So was I," he spits back.

Gavin's skin is warm against his. It always is; he's always blazing nearly hot enough to hurt, and no matter how angry Ryan is, no matter how fucking frustrated he gets, he doesn't think he could give this up for the world. How good it feels to rip Gavin's gauzy mantle from his shoulders, watch the delicate gold tiara topple from his head and hear the clink of his jewellery as his back arches - how the other god's burning hands feel against his own skin, unclasping Ryan’s brooch and shoving the heavy, dark silk mantle from his body, fingers running through his hair and pulling.

Dark against light, both of them holding more power than they really know what to do with. Gavin's glittery skin tastes sweet and the scrape of his nails against Ryan's back gives him a biting sort of satisfaction. Under them the monsters wail, a mournful song that will last the night. But they float here in the sky, surrounded by void, untouchable in the world they're building, and it's in these lonely nights when they come together like an eclipse that Ryan almost feels like the other man is something close to bearable, something close to _necessary,_ something close to _important to him-_

-

Gavin was not always the Solar Queen.

Just like Ryan was not always the Dark God, and Geoff was not always the King of Fowls and Michael the Trader of Masks, Jack the Botanist, Jeremy the Blood Mage-

The gods begin nameless and their mantles form as they create. As new powers and new identities emerge, as they shape themselves along with their world. Ryan's is a thick dark cloak that hangs heavily over his shoulders, clasped at the front with brooch of gold and pitch black glass. As soon as they began their work creating this world together it began to weave itself around him. He'd quickly realised he was the one who would work on the machines, on the automation process. But it was when he built the throne and the crown and enslaved the minions in their cages to work endlessly for the good of the factory that his mantle was complete.

And Gavin - Gavin, at first, was the Dirt King, endlessly raising trees and turning them back to nothing but mulch. His mantle was a grubby thing back then, a filth-stained creeper-skin scarf around his neck. He was a dusty little creature and clearly a young god, inexperienced in creation. He didn't catch Ryan's attention, even as they all spent more and more time together, building together, working with one another to form a world from nothing.

But then he discovered solar energy, and nearly overnight he threw away the creeper-skins and a new mantle formed. Light and gauzy and seeming to float about him; his hair turned from a mousy brown to a shimmering gold, he began to radiate light and warmth. It was a blossoming that caught all of their attention and before long his solar energy was a staple of the factory, powering the machines, helping Jack's flowers to bloom, keeping the monsters at bay.

The six of them form a pantheon and by now they are fairly settled into their roles. It isn't often that one of them will change mantles now - Michael perhaps the only one who isn't as comfortable in his role as the others. But for the most part, they toil day by day under the blazing sun and retreat at night when the monsters emerge, slowly expanding the world they are creating. It will be centuries - millennia, even - before it is time to populate it with life. Until then they are alone. 

But even so - even so, Ryan can already see the rivalry forming between himself and the Solar Queen.

Whoever controls the world's energy production will be the most powerful god, the most revered. Maybe not the most loved, but certainly the most necessary. Without power to keep up their defences, to sustain the production of building materials and keep the lights on at night, monsters will overrun their platform and all they will have created will be for nothing. He was the one to settle into the role first and everyone seemed to easily accept it.

But the Solar Queen - he is a challenger, a threat, and every day they vie to make the most energy, to be the most powerful, snapping and sniping at one another.

Still.

The worst part is that Gavin is so damnably sunny all the time. When he's not around Ryan he's prancing through Jack's fields of crops, brushing his hands over each leaf to make them grow. Or he's out in the enchanted forest watching Jeremy work with his mana with wide eyes. Or lifting his hands to stop the rain when it comes. He seems to float around looking ethereal and gorgeous, bringing light everywhere he goes, and Ryan-

Ryan wants to despise it, but he can't deny that he finds it pretty fucking attractive, and it seems like Gavin's just as drawn to him, despite their animosity. That is how they started sleeping together, after all.

"What's that, Ryan?" Gavin says now, as Ryan descends into the engine room. His jetpack shuts off with a roar and a hiss of stinking smog that makes Gavin's pretty face twist as he takes a step back.

Ryan strides forward and strokes a hand down the side of the brutish metal contraption that's slowly taking up more and more of the platform.

"My nuclear reactor," he says proudly. "It produces energy at twice the speed of your solar panels."

"It's eating all our resources," Gavin points out, with a frown.

"We have enough. Since I automated the mining process we have an unlimited supply of all the fuels it needs to run. I just need to make a few adjustments and soon it will be all we need to power this place," Ryan adds.

Gavin's nose wrinkles. He circles the reactor gingerly, leaning in to touch its warm, thrumming surface with one careful finger.

"It's noisy," he complains, "And ugly. My solar panels can hold more power than this."

"Right now, yes," Ryan says, "But not for long."

"I'll upgrade them."

"You can try, darling," Ryan says, mockingly, and Gavin scowls for a second before turning away and running back over to his own panels. He dances around between them, checking on each, as Ryan watches. He feels a tight thrill of satisfaction deep in his chest at the thought that he is _winning this_. Gavin keeps glancing all over at him, clearly affected, and Ryan fights a smirk each time. He likes the thought that the other man's eyes are on him as he gets back to work, and Gavin does too, crafting his endless mirrors that send warm shafts of light across the platform to where Ryan's machines noisily rock and hum.

-

The sun sets. Things wind down for the night, as they always do. The machines chug away, and Gavin's panels power down. They store enough energy from the day to keep the lights on, and as the sky above them grows flat and black, the redstone torches that line the factory flicker to life, one after another, calling everyone back to their little living area.

Geoff trudges in from his farm, colourful feathers and dander stuck all over his clothes. He's chatting happily to Jack, reporting on all the new chickens he's bred today. Later, Ryan knows, when they've constructed their world, he will set his flock free to roam and populate the new land with every resource it will need.

The three lads, the youngest gods, wander behind them. Michael's prancing in circles around the other two, showing off one of his new masks.

"It looks like a piece of ham," Gavin's giggling, "That's your worst yet."

"I'm still figuring out how to enchant them," Michael replies, poking Gavin in the side until he squirms and giggles. Michael slings an arm around his shoulders and Ryan isn't sure why his own fists clench. "I'll make you a mask next, Gavvy. A gold one that looks like the sun."

"Make it terribly ferocious," Gavin insists, "I want to look as godly as possible."

"I thought you were a kind god," Michael says, "Not one to strike fear in the hearts of his followers."

"Yeah, but you've got to be a _bit_ intimidating to get respect," Gavin says. "And my current face isn't doing a very good job of it."

Michael tweaks his nose and Gavin yelps and swats at him. Jeremy laughs, next to them, and Ryan's eyes flicker over to him. Since he took up the mantle of the Blood Mage he's started to look more and more unsettling; his eyes have turned red and his mantle is a tattered, black, bloodstained robe that shrouds him until he looks like some sort of ghoul or grim reaper. He works on the other side of the engine room and Ryan often hears the screams of the mobs as he sacrifices them at his altar, harvesting their life essence to create various enchantments.

Ryan might be the Dark God, but even Jeremy's work intrigues him, makes him wonder just how the other's experiments will shape the world they're creating. But around the other two lads, his laugh is light, and his touch gentle when he grabs them by the arms and tugs them away from the edge of the platform. 

"Jack's making corn for dinner," he says, "Come on."

He runs ahead with Michael. Gavin seems about to follow when he turns and must catch sight of Ryan trailing behind them. He falls back until he's next to him and gives him such a sweet smile that Ryan's quite disarmed. Then again, things are different when the work ends, when darkness falls, when they all become so acutely aware that it's just them above and the monsters below.

"Hard day's work," Gavin murmurs, and Ryan nods.

"Definitely. I'm beat." His physical body can't die, but it can still hurt, and his hands ache and his skin stings from so long toiling in the heat of the reactor. Gavin's touch on his elbow spreads warmth through his whole body, seeming to make all his muscles relax.

"Will I see you later?" Gavin asks, and there's something so oddly soft in his voice that it makes Ryan pause. They don't usually ask. One or the other of them just shows up at the other's house. 

"I suppose so," Ryan replies, but it doesn't come out as dismissively as he'd like. Gavin's smile widens, brightens, and for a moment Ryan thinks he looks quite beautiful. His hand trails down to squeeze Ryan's before he runs off after the other lads. Ryan stares after him, a little confused - but shakes himself.

The Solar Queen is a weird, flighty little thing. What they have - this strange push and pull between them - it's nameless, it means nothing, really. They're such opposites that they balance each other out. That's the only reason he's drawn to the other god. That's the only reason he feels a funny thrill in the pit of his stomach at the thought of tonight.

-

The torches keep the monsters at bay, but the factory is still very, very dark at night, and Ryan has often been cursed with the inability to sleep. His house especially feels like a tomb more often than not. Sometimes it reminds him too much of how it feels between worlds, between creations, when one civilisation falls and they are waiting for another to begin, floating in some endless void.

Below them, the monsters moan.

Beside him, Gavin sleeps.

He's curled in a little ball on his side, sound asleep with his chin tucked against his chest. As his chest rises and falls rhythmically, his whole body glows, and tiny orbs of light float out of his form like fireflies and linger around him for a moment before fading away into the darkness. 

Ryan's standing by the window, staring out at the factory, half afraid he'll see shambling figures in the dark. The first few days, before they got the torches set up, there'd been many sleepless nights spent fighting off the creatures before they could overrun their base. But now, all is quiet and still, and he turns back to the house and can't help his small smile.

It would be stupid for the Dark God to be afraid of the dark. But he can't help the fact that Gavin's light soothes him, makes him feel safer and warm and makes it easier to lie down and go to sleep. He crawls back into bed beside the other man, and the movement makes Gavin shift, mumbling, curling more tightly into himself. With his face slack in sleep, there's something almost innocent about him, and Ryan barely realises what he's doing as he finds himself reaching out and brushing a little of Gavin's hair from his face, a motion that's far too tender and that he's embarrassed about immediately. But when Gavin doesn't wake up, he relaxes a little.

It's cold at night.

That's why he curls up close to the other man, huddling right up against his back. It's not something they usually do, but Gavin presses back into him and after a moment Ryan throws an arm over his waist.

Purely practical. Gavin radiates warmth and the glowing specks of light that float around his slumbering form have something hypnotic to them, a soothing tranquility that soothes Ryan to sleep as his eyes trace their ambling path. Why shouldn't he take advantage of what the other god can give him, as long as he's here?

-

Later Ryan will not know what started it all, really.

There's a storm on the horizon and they're all on edge. Geoff carelessly expands his platform and mobs spawn, leading to a creeper explosion that damages some of their equipment. Jeremy decides to build a portal to the Nether and suddenly there's a heightened sense that things are progressing faster than they can really keep up with, like they're all a little bit in over their heads. 

Either way, it's a recipe for everyone to be a little bit snippy, a little bit defensive of their work, trying hard to get as much done as they can before the storm hits-

And Gavin is being particularly insufferable.

First he won't stop singing some stupid fucking song while working on his solar. Then he manages to drop a whole load of resources off the edge of the factory and Ryan and Michael have to take a trip down to the Underworld - never fun, not with the amount of monsters that lurk down there - to get them back. When they get back up he's somehow managed to flood the whole fucking platform so they spend forever cleaning that shit up.

It all irks Ryan more than usual - he's hit a few roadblocks in his work, and he's getting frustrated - but as evening strikes he manages to get the final parts of his nuclear reactor working, and his shout of triumph brings all the others running.

"Whatcha got?" Jack asks - Jeremy's wandering over from his altar, too, pushing his hood back with blood-smeared hands. Ryan grimaces at the sight of him - but Gavin's walking up too, now, something suspicious in his eyes, and even Geoff comes over from his chicken farm.

"My reactor's finished," Ryan declares proudly, and thumps a fist against it. "It's generating enough energy to last us pretty much a fucking lifetime now. We don't need to worry about powering any of our equipment."

"Fucking hell, Ryan, that's one ugly motherfucker," is Geoff's valuable contribution.

"I was aiming for efficiency, not aesthetics."

"Can you turn it down a bit?" Michael yells. He's wearing a horrific mask covered in brightly coloured feathers and looks like some sort of wild beast, crouching on one of the machines nearby with his head tilted and hands clamped over his ears. 

"No, that's the noise it makes," Ryan says, crossly. He was hoping for a little bit of appreciation here, but they're all just sort of eying his machine suspiciously, and a bitter annoyance rises in his chest. He turns to Gavin and sneers at him, even more riled up by the other god's narrowed eyes and screwed up face. "Your solar's just a waste of room now. This reactor is making more than double what they are and it can run at night, too, so you're probably better served finding something else to do."

Gavin's eyes widen a little. Ryan's tone came out far more biting than he was expecting.

"Well, we can still have both," he begins.

“What a waste of fucking time that would be,” Ryan spits back. “Face it, Solar Queen - my nuclear machinery is the way of the future. You’ve been outmatched.”

Gavin’s face goes pale with anger. The others have fallen very silent, watching as Gavin steps up towards him. Ryan stands his ground, sneering down at him with one eyebrow raised challengingly.

“Your machine is disgusting,” Gavin says. His voice is soft and dangerous. “My solar panels provide _clean_ energy.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my reactor,” Ryan shoots back. “The noise is the only downside, but we’ll get used to it. It’s worth it for how much more _powerful_ it is. You might as well smash all those stupid mirrors. We don’t need them any more.”

Gavin flinches. He takes a step back, glancing over his shoulder at his solar farm. For a moment there’s something so vulnerable in his face that the anger in Ryan’s chest falters a little.

But then Jeremy’s stepping forward, circling the machine, examining it. He checks the power readout and gives a quiet gasp.

“Holy shit, Ryan. This thing’s producing like crazy,” he says, and glances over at the others. “He’s right. With this sort of power the amount of things we can build just tripled, not to mention the resource mining will be faster.”

“You see?” Ryan says smugly, as the others inch forward to have a look. 

“That’s pretty cool, actually,” Geoff admits grudgingly.

Gavin’s pouting by now, arms folded like a petulant child.

“Well, I’m going to keep making mine,” he insists.

“You’re just wasting resources,” Ryan snaps. “Be fucking useful instead of clinging to something stupid!”

“Ryan,” Jack chides softly, when Gavin stiffens. He pulls his mantle around his shoulders protectively, but the glow of sunlight around him dims a little.

“What?” Ryan says, defensively. “There’s a storm coming. We can’t have people fucking around doing nothing.”

“If I keep upgrading my solar,” Gavin says stubbornly, “It’ll overtake your filthy machine again!”

“And if I upgrade my machine, it’ll overtake yours even more!” Ryan snarls. Gavin’s childish insistence is only pissing him off even more. He doesn’t know why - maybe it’s because the others still look dubious, maybe because he _wanted_ Gavin’s acknowledgement that he’s won - but he feels a black anger rise up and strides towards the sun god, scowling down at him. “Face it - you’re _useless_ now! All your work was for _nothing_.”

The hurt in Gavin's eyes gives him a sick sort of satisfaction. The other god takes a stumbling step back, looking like he can't quite believe what he just heard - but when Ryan continues to gaze coldly at him, his face shutters over. He turns and flounces off, heading for his solar farm to sulk over his panels.

There's a moment of awkward silence.

"Fucking brutal," Jeremy says finally, before backing off towards his blood altar again. The others take that as a cue to drift away, although Ryan sees Jack and Geoff both head over to Gavin, moving in to talk to him quietly. Only Michael remains, still crouched on top of one of the machines, watching Ryan like some sort of horrid little gargoyle.

"Do you need something?" Ryan snaps.

Michael tilts his head. Ryan can only just see his eyes behind the mask, shadowed and curious.

"You really think Gav's just wasting his time?" he asks, slowly.

"Of course I do," Ryan snaps. "We don't need more energy. He should devote his time to more useful projects."

"He's the Solar Queen. This is what he does."

"What he does is no longer needed," Ryan says. "It's for the good of the factory."

"The good of the factory," Michael murmurs. He stares at Ryan for a moment, then turns to look at Gavin. He's sitting on the ground by now, polishing one of his solar panels absently. Jack and Geoff are sitting next to him, heads bent in close. Ryan barely spares them a glance, irked by the other man's sulking.

"What's with you two, anyway?" Michael asks, and Ryan's attention snaps back over to him.

"What do you mean?"

"Dude, Gavin glows in his fucking sleep, we can see it from a mile away. Every night it's coming from _your_ damn window. Makes it pretty clear you're sleeping together," Michael observes, and Ryan feels his cheeks heat involuntarily, and turns away to hide it. "If you hate him so much why are you fucking him?"

"I don't hate Gavin," Ryan snaps, because it's never been about that, really, "I just find him insufferable at times, and as you may have seen we are both vying for the same job. He's my rival. All great gods have one."

"An arch-nemesis?" Michael demands. "A bit theatric of you."

"It's not a _relationship_. If we can get something out of each other, why not? It hardly means anything. It's pure physical pleasure," Ryan says, and Michael huffs.

"Right," he says, and looks over at Gavin again. "It's just..."

"What?" Ryan asks, sharply, but Michael shakes his head.

"Nothing," he says. "Gavin's hard to figure out sometimes, is all. I'm sure if his solar doesn't work out something else will catch his attention soon enough. Believe me," he adds, at Ryan's frown, "He finds you just as obnoxious. I guess that's what this is all about, right? You want to beat each other. Prove you're the best."

"Who doesn't?" Ryan demands, and Michael just shrugs, hopping off the machine and whirling away.

Ryan stares after him, a little unsure what that was all about. But there's still a burning determination in his chest to win this, win this, prove to all of them that he knows what he's doing here, that he can keep this factory together, and he turns back to his own work, letting his frustration fuel him.

-

Gavin's hunched over his solar panels all day, scribbling furious notes, running all over the factory gathering resources. Ryan's never seen him so intense about something.

That night they sit around the campfire eating roast chicken and corn and sweet stewed apples, swigging ale after a hard day's work. Sometimes Ryan gets so wrapped up in what he's doing that he forgets a little that it's all six of them, here. It's nice to break bread together, to look around at the others and remember that it's not just him alone up here. They're a pantheon, they're something close to a family. It's hard not to be, after so much time together.

Gavin leans forward. His face is flushed from all the work he's done, his eyes blazing, glittery and beautiful.

"I'm going to keep working until I reach solar eight," he's explaining, excitedly. "Once I do it'll be productive at five times as much as Ryan's current machine. It'll be the best foundation for us to expand the factory on. It's a lot of work and there are so many magical components, but I've figured it all out. It's totally doable!"

"That's great, Gav," Jack says, with a beatific smile.

"I can't wait to get started," Gavin says, and takes a happy, large munch of his corn. He seems to have quite recovered himself from earlier, clearly very pleased with his plan, and when he looks over and meets Ryan's eyes across the flames of the campfire he scrunches his face up  and sticks his tongue out mischievously. There's something almost endearing about the childish motion. It riles up all Ryan's instincts to rival him, but in a good way, in the same way he's found fun this whole time, the way that sparks him to work harder.

He doesn't say anything, but he thinks, _I'll let him do it. I'll let him get to solar eight and then I'll add one more layer to my reactor and none of it will be worth anything. It'll be the ultimate victory._

_The look on his fucking face!_

_Beat him, I'll beat him, I'll beat him._

It's exciting to have such a cunning plan in mind. He smirks back at Gavin and sees the other god's eyes glitter in determination.

_The game is on,_ Ryan thinks, _even harder and faster and bigger than before, and I'm going to win it. And it will feel amazing when I do._

-

The next few weeks pass in a funny sort of routine. Gavin rises early every morning and usually the others will wake to the sound of him already hammering, clanking and sawing away over in the engine room. He sits for hours hunched over his mirrors, painstakingly connecting wires. Later, as he needs more and more rare resources to upgrade his panels, he starts venturing to the Nether, or using Jeremy's mana, or planting bizarre looking foliage over in the farms.

It's a joy to watch.

The way his brow furrows when he focuses, how he bites his lip or sticks his tongue out just a little in concentration. How by the end of the day his pure white tunic is tattered and stained with dirt and oil and ashes, and how he gets back from the Nether looking frazzled with blood smeared over his hands and dripping from the end of his diamond sword. There's sand in his hair and dark shadows under his eyes and an extra bite in his voice when he snaps back at Ryan.

But he keeps working, and working, with a determination that startles even Ryan.

He watches, waiting. Planning. The anticipation building up and up until he's nearly bursting waiting for that final gratification, the victory, how Gavin's attention will be fixed on him and solely him as he acknowledges that Ryan has _won_ \- and he works on his own machine in secret silence.

-

The night of the storm Ryan finds himself at Gavin's door.

They've spent the last few weeks in their own homes, Gavin either too annoyed or too tired to show up, Ryan not wanting to make the first move. But it's a darker night than usual, with the rain thundering down overhead and the sky lit up now and then by flashes of eerie green light-

And despite himself, Ryan doesn't want to be alone.

He isn't sure if Gavin heard his knock under the hammering of the water and the distant crash of thunder. He's already soaked just from the short walk across the platform from his house to Gavin's, and he knows there'll probably be damage to the farms that they have to repair in the morning, but right now he feels very odd. Like the world is much larger and the darkness around them deeper than it ever was before, and Dark God or not, he feels terribly small in comparison.

He's about to turn and go back when Gavin's door finally creaks open, and the rush of warmth and light that spills out nearly overwhelms Ryan.

"Ry?" Gavin murmurs, sleepily. "What're you doing here?"

He's got a blanket draped around his shoulders and his hair's sticking up every which way in wild blond strands. He looks exhausted, somehow that's the first thing Ryan notices. There are dark shadows under his eyes and his skin is more pallid than usual, lacking its typical golden glow. Somehow he didn't notice it as much during the daytime and the sunlight.

But the sight of him - soft, warm Gavin - makes him want to pull the other god close suddenly, burrow into that blanket with him, bury his face in his hair. No matter their rivalry, no matter how much Ryan wants to beat him, on this cold, rainy night he wants the comfort, the warmth, the firelight.

"Can I come in?" he asks, and Gavin reaches up and rubs his eyes. He steps aside without a word and Ryan's relieved to enter, to have the door shut behind him and the sound of the rain dull to a muffled pattering.

His house is big and black and cold but it's usually where they end up. Gavin's, though - it draws Ryan in in a different way, made of rich dark wood and lined with colourful silks. A flickering fire at one end of the room fills it with a cosy glow. His bed is covered in thick wool blankets and hanging over it is a golden model of the planets that shimmers prettily in the firelight.

"Are you okay?" Gavin asks. He's a little more awake now and giving Ryan an odd look.

Ryan swallows, suddenly self-conscious. The two of them haven't talked much lately apart from exchanging barbed comments when they pass each other in the engine room. Suddenly he finds it hard to meet Gavin's eyes, and the silence stretches on awkwardly, just the crackle of the flames filling the room.

"Fine," he replies after a moment, stiffly. "Just - it's a chaotic night. Thought you might want some company."

"I was _sleeping,"_ Gavin points out, and his lips twist, but he steps a little closer. "But you're welcome to stay in here. I know your house gets cold on the best of nights. In this weather it must be even worse."

It's a more gracious answer than Ryan knows he deserves, and he nods. He thinks he sees Gavin start to smile - but then he looks away, biting his lip, seeming to feel a bit awkward. He pulls up the blanket that's slipping around his shoulders and turns away a little.

"You can, ah, lie down if you want," he says very uncertainly, before practically fleeing back into bed and burrowing under the covers.

Any other time Ryan might have been amused by his hesitance. He probably thinks Ryan's cross with him, thinks him as little and useless as he's been saying the last few weeks-

(And he doesn't, not really, even he knows that, even if he wouldn't admit it, even if he wants to _win this_ \- Gavin's powerful, that's why he's a threat, that's what makes it so satisfying to clash with him-)

But this time it just leaves an unpleasant taste in his mouth. He takes slow steps towards the bed, sees Gavin's mantle lying slung over the back of a chair, shimmering like a sheet of sunlight, faintly glowing, beautiful. He wants to touch it suddenly - and does, reaching out and letting his fingers brush over the silky fabric. When he turns he finds Gavin peeking out at him from under the blankets, only to quickly turn away and bury his face in his pillow.

Ryan strips off his wet robes and climbs under the covers next to him. Gavin makes no move to shuffle closer to him, and suddenly Ryan's worried that if he reaches out, he'll pull away. There's an awkward silence as they lie there without quite touching. Thunder rumbles faintly in the distance, and a harsh wind rattles against the windows. Gavin shifts and pulls the covers up around him.

"I'm too tired to do anything," he blurts out suddenly, "If that's why you came."

Ryan stiffens, something nervous and uncomfortable welling in his stomach.

"I didn't," he says, and it comes out a little too softly. Gavin does look exhausted, and the way he relaxes in relief and glances up at Ryan makes him want to pull him close, to settle into that funny balance that they used to be able to find when the biting and scratching and passion was over and they just lay together, exhausted but content. Gavin does shift a bit closer to him then.

"I'm nearly at solar eight," he murmurs quietly. "As high as I can get it. I can't wait to finish up with it and power the whole base."

Ryan's heart clenches a little. The upgrade to his machine is finished and he's planning to implement it as soon as Gavin finishes his solar eight. That's been the plan all along - the most resounding victory he can think of, the best way to show Gavin, show them all, just how powerful he is. Suddenly it's not winning that he's looking forward to but the end of this tension between them, to finish ignoring each other and Gavin rushing about all over the place and go back to banter and snarky comments and Gavin showing up at his door every evening.

He doesn't say anything, just reaches out and touches Gavin's hair softly, twisting golden strands around one finger before letting his hand fall back to his side. Gavin stiffens, seeming a little confused. 

"You know..." he begins, only to trail off.

"What?" Ryan asks, heart pounding suddenly.

"Nothing," Gavin replies, and bites his lip. "Just - it hits me sometimes. How hard all six of us have worked on this. We're creating a whole damn world - it's exciting. I'm glad it's with the five of you. Some of the other gods I've met were... not quite as nice. And I wouldn't want to do this on my own. So even if we fight sometimes, or things go wrong, or there's a big scary storm outside - I reckon we got pretty bloody lucky."

It's an uncharacteristically sentimental speech, but it makes something warm swell in Ryan's chest. He's created worlds on his own before and they've always been cold, twisted, metallic things populated by monsters or machines. And he's worked with some gods who were cruel, some who were divas, some who started wars for the fun of it, who treated their creations as battlegrounds on which to prove their superiorities.

He thinks of Geoff, their simple farmer who's so happy to lovingly craft the animals of their world. Michael, their protector, their wild trickster. Jack, who's made the world green and lush and ripe with food. Jeremy and the magical element, be it dark or light, he's added to their universe. And Gavin, Gavin who brings the sunlight, who chases the rain away, who will keep this place from turning into a forever-night like some of the other worlds Ryan's built.

He cares about them all, even if he doesn't like to admit it. But there's something else in Gavin's voice, something that makes him think of how Michael looked at them both the other day. He doesn't know what to say, but he pulls himself closer to Gavin and tugs the other god so his head is resting on Ryan's shoulder, and his hand is pressed to Gavin's chest, over his heart. Together it all feels warm. Together they're safe, at last for tonight.

-

Later Ryan will think he should have left it there. He should've just fucking left it there, and cut his losses, and let Gavin have his little solar panels. Winning be damned, proving himself be damned, there’s no fucking need for it. They’re all gods, all powerful, all-powerful, there is no fucking reason except his own pride.

But Ryan is very, very proud.

The day after Gavin triumphantly finishes solar eight Ryan goes to sleep knowing what he is going to do, and wakes up two hours earlier than usual. He feels a little numb and tells himself it's because he's exhausted. He moves as if in a daze to the engineering room. It's a grey dawn, the sun weak and barely risen. The others sleep away.

He takes out the machine he's been working on. It takes the full two hours for him to set it up and by the time he's done the nuclear reactor is chugging away even harder than it usually does, with awful rattles and clanks. It's so warm standing by the thing that he's sweating under his heavy, dark mantle, and his arms ache, and when he finally steps away and views the completed product he doesn't feel victorious. Satisfied, yes, with that rush of relief that comes with finally taking the last step on a big project - but not the burning excitement he'd expected.

_You're tired,_ he tells himself. _You're tired and that's why._

He sits, fiddling with his equipment as the others rise in the distance. Hears their voices carry towards him on the wind as they greet each other good morning. Smells the furnaces start up and the warm scent of baking bread as Jack gets started on breakfast. When Gavin emerges from his house it makes his stomach begin to twist in knots; he's bouncing around, greeting all the others happily, his mantle seeming to float around him like a trailing ray of sunshine. As he runs about the sky above them brightens and clears like the sun itself has woken up with him.

Ryan rises, slowly, an inevitable heaviness to all his actions.

"Hey," he calls out, and his voice seems to make everything fall still. They all turn, on the other platform, looking across to where he is. "Hey, come over here. I have something to show you."

His heart should be racing, he thinks, as they get closer and closer. But it isn't; it just pounds in sickening, steady thumps, in time with the slow chug of the machine behind him. _Thump, thump, rattle. Thump, thump, rattle._

"What is it, Ryan?" Gavin asks, happily. Oh, he is in a good mood today. Pleased that he's finished his solar panels. He dances ahead of the others teasingly, coming up to him. "Have you been looking at my wonderful solar? I'm going to use it to charge a jetpack today!"

His mouth is dry. He swallows. And it begins.

"Your solar is obsolete." He means it to sound smug but in the moment he has no control. The words are cold and frozen and fall like shards of ice shattering to the ground, shattering the smile on Gavin's face. Shattering Gavin. He steps aside and gestures at the machine, now twice as tall. _Thump, thump, rattle._ Its innards glow red like the underworld. "I've added a second reactor. My machine produces three times as much now as even your solar eight. So how's that for energy production? I've won, Gavin. Give up."

Gavin stares at him for a long moment. Ryan stares back. He doesn't know what look is on his own face but he sees everything that passes across Gavin's. The shock, first. Then, as his gaze shifts to the machine, the slow realisation. The light that dies in his eyes. The way his head lowers and his fists clench and his shoulders heave as he takes one deep breath, two, three.

The others are very silent. The whole world is very silent. Then Gavin looks up and looks at Ryan and the expression on his face is so thoroughly betrayed that it feels like a physical blow. Ryan has to struggle not to take a step back.

_It's not just about the machine._

He knows that suddenly, so acutely it nearly hurts. Along the way this became something more and he can see quite clearly that Gavin never expected this, never _wanted_ this, and somewhere along the line Ryan has managed to fuck up. Fuck up real fucking badly, except even now he can't quite comprehend just how bad this is about to get, because-

"Fucking hell, Ryan," Jeremy breathes, and he doesn't sound happy, and-

"Was that really necessary?" Michael's already demanding, and Ryan feels cold all over-

But Gavin, Gavin's turning away now.

He walks back to his solar panels and stares down at them for a long moment. Ryan waits, his stomach in knots. He’s expecting an outburst, something like anger or jealousy or hatred. Hot feelings. That’s what he craved, wasn’t it? A fucking reaction.

But Gavin’s face is very, very blank. He picks up his solar eight panel and turns it over in his hands. The mirror sends shafts of light across the platform towards them and Jeremy, the closest, steps back like he thinks it will burn him.

Then Gavin walks to the edge of the platform and hurls the panel over.

“No!” Geoff cries, starting forward with one hand outstretched. Too late, too late. His fingers curl helplessly as he freezes.

“Gavin!” Michael shouts, and springs forward when Gavin turns, shoulders hunched and fists clenched, trembling, like he’s about to grab the other panels and do the same thing. “Fucking stop, dude, what are you-“

Ryan watches like a statue, can’t stop, can’t move. Glass shatters faintly below them. The sound seems to wake Gavin up; he lifts his head, eyes terribly blank, and stares at them all for a moment. 

Then, in one decisive motion, he lifts his mantle from his shoulders and rips it in two.

It happens like a storm in a second; the sky goes black, a deafening crack of thunder rings out, lightning flashes distantly. Someone screams, a wretched noise, and Ryan honestly has no idea who. All he can see, playing out behind his eyes over and over again, is the tearing. The light that flickers, and goes out.

When the sun emerges again it’s dimmer and overcast and Ryan blinks dancing spots from his eyes and stares at the shadowed, silhouetted figure at the edge of the platform. Gavin’s got his head tipped back and arms outstretched and it looks like he’s melting. All the gold and glow is fading away like the setting sun; his hair falls flat and dull and dark against his head, his shimmering robes disintegrate leaving nothing but pallid skin in their wake. And when he turns and looks at them even the colour of his eyes is gone; nothing but dark empty pupils.

“Gavin,” Geoff whispers, brokenly, and takes a stumbling step towards him. “What have you done?”

“What’s he done?” Michael hisses, and turns towards Ryan. He’s angrier than Ryan’s ever seen him before, trembling hard and a dangerous edge in his voice. There’s a simple black mask over his eyes and it makes him look like a thief. But he is not the thief here, Ryan thinks, as Michael raises a shaking finger and points it directly at him. “I think you mean what’s _he_ done?”

Their gazes all turn to him and Ryan swallows hard. He feels numb but deep inside some sick shock-horror is settling over him.

He didn’t want this.

He didn’t want to see Gavin standing there bare and empty like they all were at the beginning of this world. No one’s destroyed a mantle before; they grow and fade and change but it’s not something you choose. He looks broken, turning to trudge aimlessly back towards their houses, and no one follows him. They’re all just staring at Ryan accusingly and in that moment he doesn’t feel like he’s won. He just hates himself because right now, right now they’re looking for an explanation and he can’t think of a single good fucking reason why he did this. Not a damn one.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” Jack spits, and out of everyone the fact that _he’s_ angry is what finally makes Ryan flinch. His jaw clenches and he turns away, because his damnable _pride_ that got him into this whole mess won’t let him shrink in shame. Already he’s trying to tell himself that _you wanted this, who cares, it’s true that you’re more powerful, it’s true you don’t need his solar, it’s for the good, the good, the good of the factory, he’s just being fucking dramatic, he chose to do that just then, anything that happens is on him, not you, what do you care anyway?_

_What do_ you _care, anyway?_

But he can’t quite process it yet, even as the others turn away in a disappointed silence and leave him standing there, alone in the engine room. The only heat is what’s radiating off his noisy machine and somehow it’s sickening rather than a comfort, as he steps forward and looks at the shreds of Gavin’s mantle on the ground, nothing but transparent tissue now, already crumbling as he reaches down to try and pick them up.

_The Solar Queen is dead_ , he thinks, and that is his only certainty right now. _You killed him._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> t/w: self-harm in the context of drawing blood for that blood altar

**PART II. RESURRECTION**

_Thump, thump, rattle._

_Thump, thump, rattle._

The others are avoiding the engine room. He can hear, distantly, the noises of Geoff's farm, some sort of yelling and commotion as he must be chasing one of his escaped chickens around.

_Thump, thump, rattle._

Jack's building something across the way, and Ryan can hear the clash of metal, the little clinks and clangs as he tinkers away with different parts. Progress.

_Thump, thump, rattle._

His head hurts, a pounding behind his eyes. He didn't get enough sleep. Had to wake up early, didn't he? To finish his machine.

_Thump, thump, rattle._

Finally he can't stand it any more. He rises from where he was hunched over the blueprints for a new machine and turns away, head spinning and ears ringing and back uncomfortably warm from where he was leaning against the reactor. He gives in to his curiosity and walks across the engine room towards Jeremy's blood altar, lingering a little way away, watching.

Gavin's been helping him all day, in silence. He's wearing a simple black shift and every time Ryan looks at him he gets a terrible shock, expecting blonde hair and gold jewellery and a healthy glow. Each time it sends a jolt through him and makes a sick feeling spread through his stomach as he remembers that's gone now.

Gone, gone now.

As he watches, Gavin plunges a sacrificial dagger into another writhing zombie. It falls with a scream and its blood drains away into the basin of the altar. Gavin watches, face blank.

"I need gods' blood for this next spell," Jeremy says, and steps forward, his knife raised to cut his own flesh. He's done it a few times now for various spells and it makes Ryan grimace every time - but now Gavin puts a hand on Jeremy's arm, shakes his head. He steps forward himself and slashes the blade across his own arm before anyone can say anything.

Ryan's whole spine stiffens. His body feels cold all over as he watches Gavin's blood gush over his arm on either side and spatter into the altar. His face is tight with pain, though he doesn't let out so much as a squeak, and he tilts his arm to let it drip down the tips of his fingers.

"Fucking hell, Gavin. You didn't have to," Jeremy's saying, but if Gavin replies Ryan doesn't hear it. He turns away, vaguely registering that he's shaking.

_You've changed everything._

It's not quite sinking in yet. That this isn't a temporary change, a brief tantrum from Gavin that will pass. Things won't go back to normal. Not in an hour, not by tonight, not by next morning. 

_You will never see your sun god again._

It starts to wash up on him, heavy waves of something too close to grief - but he grits his teeth and swallows it down and tries not to think about it as he gets back to work. 

-

The others are all ignoring him, still angry about what happened, and Ryan isn't much in the mood to talk to them either. When night falls he returns to his own house where he sits in the dark for a very long time, a book open in his lap but unable to concentrate on reading. His mind is racing, playing the events of the day back over and over, remembering every word he said.

_You were too harsh._

In hindsight it just seems cruel and he feels hot with shame and embarrassment. What must the others have thought?

_You have never thought yourself a cruel god_ \- not compared to others, at least.

_Did you really think he'd take this well? Did you really think he'd just roll over at your feet and say oh, Ryan, clearly you're more powerful and I was wrong. I admire you for it._

_He hates you. They all hate you._

_Gavin tore his mantle but you made the first fucking cut, you imbecile._

Everything outside is silent. The others must have gone to bed. He rises, joints stiff, and walks to the window where he stands staring out into the darkness. His eyes drift to Gavin's window and his heart sinks.

He's used to seeing the other man's window glow with a faint golden light from the little stars that he emits when he sleeps. Even on the nights they weren't in each other's beds, it used to comfort Ryan, to see that light before he turned and went to sleep. A reminder that they were all here together, safe and well and ready to push back against the dangers of the night.

But Gavin's window is dark and to think that he will never see those lights again, will never roll over to see the sun god curled up asleep surrounded by glowing little orbs, makes the loss feel like Jeremy’s knife, draining everything inside him away, leaving only a hollow shell.

And then Gavin’s door opens.

The movement makes Ryan stiffen in surprise; he leans forward, staring out the window. The dim glow of a redstone torch emerges. Gavin’s carrying it in one hand. As he inches out of his house and shuts the door quietly behind him Ryan feels his heart quicken.

_He’s coming here just like all the other nights_ , is his first thought. 

And then he sees the glint of a steel sword in Gavin’s other hand and thinks, _he’s coming here to kill_ me-

But Gavin turns and walks away from the platform. It takes a moment for Ryan to register where he’s going, but then he realises. The elevator.

_The Underworld._

_What could he want down there?_

Especially now, in the dead of night, when the monsters will swarm endlessly. It’s dangerous enough in the daytime. They’ll tear Gavin to shreds, and doesn’t that give him a sickening jolt - he remembers how it looked to see the blood run down Gavin’s arm earlier today, and the way his face tightened in pain, and a thick, shuddering dread spreads slowly across his whole body.

But what can he do?

Gavin won’t die. Gods can’t be killed; they’ll just come back. And Gavin surely doesn’t want him down there, doesn’t want any of them down there. Whatever he’s doing he clearly wants to do it alone. Ryan watches him vanish into the darkness and turns back to his own bed, feeling heavy and sick. He lies anxiously awake the entire night and doesn’t sleep a wink.

-

“Why would he come down here?” Geoff asks the next day.

They’re all crowded onto the elevator. Gavin hadn’t reappeared this morning so Ryan had told the others where he went and somehow a unanimous decision that _everyone_ would go to find him was made. 

They’re still cross with him. Michael’s masked face stares coldly at him and he keeps his distance, not even turning towards Ryan when he speaks. Geoff’s eyes are filled with a distinct _disappointment_ , Jack’s too, and while Jeremy seems a little kinder, even he keeps looking at Ryan now and then with a _what the fuck were you thinking_ sort of look. It’s hardly pleasant.

He supposes, bitterly, that he didn’t quite realise how much he cared about them _all_ until even that’s under threat.

“Who the fuck knows,” Michael snaps, “Maybe he just wanted to kill something. I’d want to kill something too after the sort of fucking day he had yesterday.”

_Now_ he looks at Ryan, hatefully. His mask is red and covered in flames and he looks more like a devil than a god. Ryan stars resolutely away, jaw working.

They head down.

The elevator emerges onto one of the narrow platforms and Ryan feels the instant unease that he always does down here. They’ve built thin, trailing paths of cobblestone to get around down here but otherwise all that surrounds them is empty black void. It stinks of the rotting flesh of zombies and the faint gunpowder of creepers.

As soon as they arrive, they recoil.

“Fucking hell,” Jeremy breathes, “Was this Gav?”

Piles of scattered bones, the crumpled forms of skeletons and zombies, even a few strewn dark shapes of Endermen lie around them, in seeping pools of black blood. The bodies will disintegrate after a while, but right now they’re still here - and there’s a hell of a lot of them.

“He had a sword,” Ryan says grimly. “It’s a lot of them.”

“It’s a fucking massacre.” Geoff’s pressed by Jack’s side, uneasy. He looks out of place here, in his overalls and thick farmer’s gloves, hair strewn with feathers. Out of all of them he avoids this place. “Didn’t know he had it in him.”

Michael springs forward, dancing nimbly around the bodies. The rest of them move more slowly, wary of falling off the thin platform as Michael leads the way into the shadows. The torches that they’ve placed down here don’t nearly provide enough light for it to be comfortable. Ryan feels something close to afraid, but it’s not of the monsters.

“Gav? Gavvy?” Michael calls out. “You down here, bud? It’s just us.”

There’s no reply. The hair’s prickling up on the back of Ryan's neck, even though everything around them is still and silent. He's quite sure there's nothing about to attack them. Still. Something feels unsettling.

"Gav-"

Michael breaks off, coming to a halt. Ryan nearly bumps into his back and peers over his shoulder, the others crowding up behind them.

The cobblestone path stretches ahead of them to a dead end. Standing at the very end of the platform is a dark figure, back to them and hunched over, only barely visible in the torchlight. There's a black cloak around them, concealing their features.

It's Gavin. It has to be, and Ryan strains to see.

"Gav?" Jeremy calls out, and shoulders past Ryan to start moving forward along with Michael. "Hey, what're you doing down here?"

"I came to the underworld to fight mobs. I couldn't sleep. Wanted to do something useful so I thought I'd clear the downstairs, get some loot for us." It's definitely Gavin, Ryan would recognise that accent anywhere - but his voice sounds a little different. Lower, raspy, like he's swallowed glass and his throat's all torn up.

"That's great, Gav," Michael says. He's inching forward with one hand outstretched like he's trying to tame a skittish horse. "Of course you're useful. Why don't you come back up and-"

"I have a new mantle, Michael." Gavin still hasn't turned yet and there's a steady sinking feeling in Ryan's chest. All he can see in the flickering light is a tattered dark shroud over Gavin's form. "It formed last night while I was fighting the mobs. I know what I'm gonna be good at now."

"Really? Come into the light, Gavin, let me see. I bet it's wonderful."

There's a waver in Michael's voice and behind Ryan, Geoff's clinging to Jack's arm. Michael and Jeremy glance at each other and Ryan knows they're just as concerned about what's going on here.

Gavin hesitates. Then he turns, slowly, and steps into the torchlight. Ryan hears someone gasp behind him, isn't sure if it's Jack or Geoff. His own spine stiffens, blood running cold.

It's like something from a fucking horror movie. Gavin's hair has turned black as night and hangs in limp strands over his face. His skin is pallid like a corpse and covered in cuts and bruises, dark wells under his eyes, which now burn a sickly yellow. The hood pulled up over his head casts his face into his shadow and hangs in ragged pieces around his body. His robes are black and just as ramshackle, and there are blood spotted bandages wrapped around his arms and legs.

He looks like a body someone just fucking dug up from the graveyard, like a zombie or ghoul of some kind, and it makes Ryan's heart nearly stop in his chest. What happened to Gavin - sunny little Gavin with his golden hair, his blazing eyes, so brimming with life and love and happiness? This Gavin can't stop the rain or make the plants grow. This Gavin won't be warm against Ryan's side, won't help him to sleep.

This isn't Gavin. This is some - some horrible _thing,_ something Ryan doesn't want to look at or think about.

_Something_ you _created. Cold and twisted and wrong, just like all your other creations. Just like your fucking reactor._

"Fuck me," Jeremy whispers. Everyone else seems too stunned to move; even Michael stands frozen, not moving or speaking. But it's Jeremy that Gavin lopes up to, reaching out to take his hands, and for a moment they look like they match. Two wraiths in black.

"Jeremy," Gavin whispers, "The monsters hurt me and I bled and I thought, what a damn waste. You need gods' blood. I know what this mantle is."

"Fuck, Gavin," Jeremy breathes, but Gavin grips his hands tighter, leans in.

"Your Blood Acolyte," he says softly. "I'll help you with your experiments. I can feel it - the mana in me. My blood is twice as powerful as anyone else's now."

Jeremy's hand curls around the back of his neck, tugs him in close until their foreheads are pressed together. There's something oddly intimate in the gesture, something that makes Ryan's fists clench despite himself. He knows Jeremy's just sensing Gavin's magic, but it still gives him an ugly feeling. But Jeremy pulls back and twists to look at the others. His eyes are wide and worried.

"He's right," he calls back to them. "His blood is powerful. Killing the monsters down here, bleeding from the battle, it must've done it."

"You're not using his fucking blood in your experiments," Michael snaps. He takes Gavin's arm and tugs him away from Jeremy, hands running over him in concern. "Fucking hell, Gav, you're all cut up - doesn't this hurt?"

"Not really," Gavin rasps. "Michael, it's my job now, Michael."

Ryan hates this.

He can tell the others hate it too, because Jack's eyes are wide and horrified and Geoff's still clinging to him and Michael looks like he's about to have a fucking aneurysm. And Ryan, Ryan hates Gavin's dead voice and dead skin and his black and yellow eyes, and the way he's all covered in blood and grime that he knows will linger, as much a part of his mantle as the tattered black cape is. He hates how the other god flits back over to Jeremy like some sort of disturbing little moth and lingers behind him like a second shadow.

He hates that this what things are, now, this is the sixth side of their pantheon. How long will it last? Until some new interest comes long? It could be months, years even. Until then Gavin will be this - this _thing._

_And the Solar Queen is still dead. He's nothing but a shadow now._

"Our mantles have changed before," Jeremy says slowly. "Maybe this is meant to be. My blood magic is developing and soon I'll be able to open more portals."

No one answers. There's just an uneasy sort of silence. Ryan can't take his eyes off Gavin, as much as he wants to look away. _What the fuck_ , is all he keeps thinking. _What the fuck are we gonna do with this?_ And things still seem like they're moving too fast. But then Jeremy takes Gavin's hand and pulls him back towards the elevator and then they're all going along.

"You should treat those wounds," Michael is saying. There's a helpless frustration in his voice. "Don't you wanna think about this a bit more? There's way more you can do in the factory than just be some sort of living blood bag."

"Right now it's what's useful," Gavin murmurs, and Michael's lips press together tightly. He puts a hand on Gavin's shoulder and keeps it there as they walk back towards the elevator.

The others trail after him. Jack's leaning in to whisper in Geoff's ear, rubbing his arm soothingly. He seems rather shellshocked and Ryan remembers he was the closest to Gavin at the beginning. They'd met each other before, had worked on a world together before this one. Ryan watches them all leave, taking a moment to gather himself.

_Look at him._

_He seems like a stranger._ As the shock fades and it sinks in, Ryan's chest tightens and his eyes sting with something too close to tears. He reaches up angrily and swipes them away, annoyed with himself for the weakness, hoping none of the others saw.

-

It's funny the way things don't even change that much, really.

It's not the first time someone's changed mantles. The world doesn't end, the sky doesn't come crashing down around them. Gavin hangs around at Jeremy's blood altar all day and eventually it's just something they get used to.

They miss the Solar Queen, of course. The world seems a little darker, a little colder. It rains more, until Ryan develops a shield for it. _Just another reason we don't need him anymore_ , he wants to say, but doesn't, bites his tongue, hates himself for it the second he thinks it.

The others are still angry with him. He can tell because Geoff doesn't call him over to see the second he makes a new chicken, like he used to, and Jack smiles a little less, and Michael's straight up not talking to him - although he's the only one - and Ryan tells himself it doesn't matter, that most Pantheons don't get along and the fact that they're not in all-out war against each other is already a fucking miracle. But he can't help the fact that it stings, even if he doesn't want it to, that he wakes up each morning a little less eager than he used to be to get out there and work, that when he finishes making something cool and opens his mouth to call them to come see it only to hesitate, fall silent, it takes something of the fun out of it.

But it's still Gavin. Maybe that's what makes it easier for the others.

He's quiet for the first few days, helping Jeremy slaughter the mobs and adding his own blood to the mix. Ryan tries not to watch when that happens. But gradually, as he must settle into his role as the Blood Acolyte, he starts to smile a little more, to wander down to Geoff's chicken farm to watch what he's doing, to fool around with Michael and Jeremy as they experiment with mana and go on excursions to the Nether to gather blaze powder. He's covered in bandages and patchy scars and just looking at him is fucking painful because something about him seems like it's all about to fall apart any second-

But Ryan will occasionally glimpse the sharp flash of teeth in his face as he grins, or hear his laughter ring out across the engine room. Each time it makes something tug at his heart.

Gavin's still ignoring him.

They haven't spoken once, they don't look at each other. Their houses are dark at night. Sometimes Ryan wakes up and goes to the window seeking out that golden glow only to remember it isn't there any more. He always feels colder after, somehow.

-

Time passes. It's hard to tell how much, it's easy to lose track of days and time means little to them. Jeremy temporarily becomes the God of the Seas, then returns to being the Blood Mage. Ryan adds two more levels to his reactor. The enchanted forest expands until it makes up the entire back portion of the factory.

He never quite stops missing the Solar Queen.

The others seem to have forgotten him, but it's an ache in Ryan's chest that won't go away. It's the first thing he thinks of in the morning and what keeps him up at night. He'll realise out of nowhere he hasn't touched Gavin in weeks. Or think of something the other god would've usually found interesting only to realise he can't really talk to him any more.

One day he needs to go down to the Underworld. Jeremy needs something from down there, too, and sends Gavin. Of course he does. Gavin helps him with a lot of things now.

"Be careful down there," Jeremy's saying, as he presses a sword into Gavin's hands. "In and out, quick as you can. It was dark last night - there'll be lots of monsters."

"Nothing to worry about," Gavin replies. His voice is still rasping and weak like he’s dragging broken glass across his vocal chords with each word. "Not like they can kill me."

"But you can still feel pain," Jeremy insists, and puts a hand on Gavin's shoulder, leaning in close. There's a funny, intent look on his eyes, and something in his voice gives Ryan the impression this isn't the first - and won't be the last - time that this conversation has come up. He avoids paying attention to what they do on their side of the engine room. He hears the screams of the monsters, their grunts and growls of pain. But nothing from the others. "You know that, Gavin."

"Pain is only temporary," Gavin replies, as quiet and flat as he always is nowadays, "It all fades in the end."

Jeremy bites his lip. He glances over at Ryan, a little desperately. He's standing nearby preparing his own bag to go down. Technically they're not going together, but the Underworld is dangerous enough that there's some unspoken agreement that they might as well stay close to one another.

Still. He's not sure what Jeremy wants - for him to jump in? Say something? He hasn't spoken to Gavin in fucking weeks. Eventually Jeremy sighs and claps him on the shoulder.

"Just - be careful," he repeats, and Gavin glances up at him. It's hard to make out his expression under the shadows of his hood, but he gives a little nod.

-

Ryan never likes heading down to the Underworld. It's dark and cold and uncomfortable and being accosted by monsters every two seconds is never fun. He tells himself that that's why he's tense and uneasy as they descend in the elevator, side by side. Not looking at each other. Gavin's a shadowy blur in the corner of his eye. He carefully doesn't turn his head.

His redstone torch casts bloody light along the cobblestone path as they step out into the darkness. He hasn't been down here since that night they came looking for Gavin. It was different with everyone else. Now his stomach twists in knots. 

They still haven't spoken to each other.

He tries to ignore Gavin, focused on his own task of finding an Enderman, but he's too conscious of the other god trailing along behind him. Once he would've relished the comfort of Gavin's glow, the warmth by his side, the snarky banter they'd probably exchange.

Now he's so careful to avoid looking over at him that it only makes him even more tense, and he swallows a lump in his throat and hurries on. He sees a shadow ahead in the darkness and rushes towards it, careful not to trip on the narrow platform, overly conscious of the void around them. If he falls he knows he'll just respawn up above, but he'd rather not go through the shock of it. 

"Come here," he hisses between clenched teeth, raising the redstone torch high-

It's too silent down here. 

He doesn't register it until it's too late, but that's what's making him feel so tense and awkward. It's just so fucking silent, no moaning creatures around them, no drip of water or clank of machinery. Nothing but his own mind and the darkness-

(And the hair on the back of his neck, standing on end, prickling the way it always does when he senses monsters about-)

And which monster is silent, after all?

He hears the hiss a second too late, and barely manages to hurl himself backwards before the platform he was headed for explodes with a violent bang that makes his ears ring and a flash of light that blinds him for a moment. He's flung backwards, skidding across the cobbled path with enough force to scrape the skin from his hands and knees, and he nearly tumbles over the edge before he manages to catch himself. His head spinning, dazed, it takes him a moment to get his bearings back.

He dropped the torch.

It's lying some distance away and in its red glow he sees shadowed forms advancing on him from the jagged broken edge of the platform. Another creeper - but other things, now. The silent humanoid figures that lurk in these depths, remnants of some forgotten civilisation, ghostly creatures armed with swords or sometimes bows. They trudge towards him as he tries to scramble back, as he reaches for his sword only to shout in pain when he attempts to move, and they're closing in around him, an army of ghosts-

And then Gavin slips up from behind.

He must've been far back enough to avoid the reach of the blast. The next thing Ryan knows he's running forward and with a hoarse cry draws his glinting sword and hurls himself at the closest figure. Ryan stares, helpless, one arm hugging his ribs as he watches in shock.

They've fended off mob attacks up at the factory before. He's seen Gavin fight as the Dirt King - clumsily, mostly hiding behind Michael squawking like a chicken and brandishing a frying pan - and as the Solar Queen, luminous and graceful with a diamond sword in hand and the sun at his back.

The Blood Acolyte is different.

He fights like his body itself is a weapon, is sword and shield combined. Throwing himself at figure after figure, blade wrenching in and out of their bodies, heedless of how their own blows rain down upon him. There are a lot of them - too many - closing in around him like they want to consume him. Ryan's mouth opens of its own accord and he sees a voice call out, "Gavin!" but it sounds high and lost like an owl’s cry and he doesn't register it as his.

He sees a blade bite into Gavin's shoulder, a spray of blood, a fist against his cheek making his head snap sideways. None of it makes him falter. One of them falls, another, another, and when one of them moves towards Ryan, Gavin launches himself at the beast and clings to its back even as it whirls around and shoves him off, nearly sending him over the edge - even as it stabs at him and catches him across the ribs. His own sword thrusts through its chest and it falls.

Silence.

Ryan's vision's cleared now and he's breathing heavily, they both are, their pants and gasps and pained little grunts breaking the silence. After a moment, Gavin sinks to his knees and Ryan rises from his. He stumbles forward and picks up the torch.

His ribs ache. He's scraped raw and bloody and his silk mantle is burned and tattered. But he can already feel the magic surging through his blood as his godly body heals. He turns to Gavin, who lifts a hand to shield his eyes from the torchlight.

"You okay?" Ryan asks.

It comes out gruffly, but his heart is pounding because as he steps closer and the light falls across Gavin's face he realises this is the first time he's looked at him, really properly _looked_ at him, since everything happened.

He's seen the Acolyte from a distance and gotten the impression of ripped black fabric and shadows, grime and dried blood and soiled bandages. Enough to make anyone stay away.

But it's _Gavin._ He'd forgotten the other god's face, nearly. It's Gavin under there, with his gawkish big nose and pointed jawline and those little lines under his eyes. All of that's the same, even if there are deep gashes clawed down one cheek and a scar running across one blazing yellow eye. For a moment it tugs at something deep in his chest, seeing him crumpled on the floor like that, pale and bloody and ruined. He wants to pull Gavin into his arms and hold him close, to wash the blood and grime from him and take off those awful robes, push his lank hair back, like he can wash this mantle away and somehow find the sun beneath all the shadows.

But he can't. The Underworld is freezing cold around him and silent and dark and there is no sunlight here, never will be.

Gavin doesn't answer. Just stares at him, breathing heavily. When Ryan steps forward he flinches a little.

"Fine," he stammers, "I'm fine."

"You're bleeding," Ryan says, a bit stupidly. He can see it, seeping through Gavin's clothes, dripping from his head and cheek and shoulder. Gavin just stares at him. His eyes look like a cat in the dark.

"I'm always bleeding," he replies, matter of factly. Ryan doesn't know what to say. After a moment Gavin takes a deep breath and pushes himself painfully to his feet. He staggers sideways immediately and it's automatic to reach out and catch his arm and steady him. They both freeze. The touch sends an electric shock across Ryan's skin. He should let go but he doesn't, and after a moment Gavin gathers himself and straightens up.

Ryan bites his lip. The wounds are horrible, dark and deep and welling with blood. What's worse is the way Gavin barely even seems to care. The Solar Queen would've whinged about it, he thinks, with something too close to fondness. Probably demanded Ryan carry him back upstairs. 

The pain in his chest feels too close to grief. Suddenly - irrationally - he hates this thing in front of him. Hates its yellow eyes and dirty hair and bleeding broken body. Hates the way it jumped forward to defend him - _him!_ \- he didn't ask it to get itself hurt, he didn't want this. He doesn't deserve it.

It's easier to hate, to be angry, to let it wash away anything else. He lets go of Gavin abruptly, shoving him away with enough force that he stumbles. When he looks at Ryan with something hurt and almost betrayed in his eyes, it's too much like a breaking point.

"Horrid creature," he hears himself spit, "Stay away from me."

Gavin's eyes widen further.

"Ryan," he whispers, something small and confused in it, but Ryan's already turning away.

"I need to find an Enderman," he spits. "You should go back upstairs. You're a liability down here if you can barely walk."

He wants an answer. Hell, he wants a fight. He wishes Gavin would charge at him and push him over the edge, stab him in the back. Make him hurt. Make him bleed. Something that would even the scales. But when he looks back over his shoulder Gavin is standing there, back straight and staring at him, taking the words like he took the swords and fists, like they don't even hurt. Or like they do hurt and he doesn't care. Ryan's chest feels like an empty hole and his mouth tastes like bitter bile.

_I don't want that thing._

_I want Gavin, the real Gavin._

It flickers into his mind before he snuffs the thought out and stalks forward, relishing the ache in his ribs now, wanting it to hurt, wanting to feel anything at all. Wanting what he deserves. When he next looks back over his shoulder Gavin hasn't followed.

_Good,_ he thinks, _good - better he should stay away from me. I didn't ask for his help._

There's a worming question he can't quite shake off. _If he hated you he would've let you die. Hell, he could've set them on you and watched them tear you apart. Most other gods would've._

He doesn't want to think about what it means, and he definitely doesn't want to dwell on how it makes him feel. He pushes on in his quest but it all feels purposeless and flat, like he's moving in a dream, like he knows he can't wake up but the world around him isn't quite real anyway.

-

Later that night he comes in from the engine room late, aching and sour from the day's events, faint with hunger.

Most of the others have gone to bed now. Jeremy's still working at his blood altar; Gavin got him the blaze powder he needed and whatever he's doing now, it's making a lot of rather strange noises. Ryan wonders if Gavin told him what happened down there.

The rest of the factory is dark and quiet, but as Ryan approaches their common area he notices one of the ovens is still on, filling the space with a warm glow. He heads in to get food only to pause.

Michael's sitting in the pile of silks and cushions that he set up some time ago in a corner of the room. Gavin's lying with his head in his lap, and seems to be asleep. Michael's eyes flicker up to Ryan as he enters, but Gavin doesn't stir.

They've barely talked since this all went down and Ryan knows Michael still blames him for what happened. He wants to walk out but he also needs to eat and after a moment he turns away and goes to grab food. In a fit of stupid pride he then decides that it would be a great idea to sit at the table in here instead of just going back to his house. Michael raises an eyebrow when he sits down, but otherwise doesn't comment.

There's a long, awkward silence. Gavin still hasn't moved and after a moment Ryan dares to glance over. Michael's eyes catch his and for a moment they stare a bit stupidly at one another.

"He's asleep," Michael growls finally. "He's exhausted."

"I figured," Ryan replies, coldly - but it falters when Gavin shifts a little and burrows further into Michael, who drops a hand down to card his fingers gently through his hair. Ryan watches them and feels his stomach twist. He thinks of a night that feels like years ago now. A cold night with the rain pouring down and a warm body in his arms. Golden hair tickling his nose. Dead now.

He lowers his head, not wanting Michael to see whatever look is on his face. But suddenly, desperately, he needs to know that he's not alone here, that he's not the only one who's really not fucking okay with this.

"What do you think?" he asks.

"Of what?" There's a wary note in Michael's voice, but somehow Ryan thinks he must have known this was coming.

"Of his new mantle. The Blood Acolyte. You spend more time with him and Jeremy than I do."

There's a long pause. When he looks up Michael's staring down at Gavin and his shoulders are stiff and hunched.

"It's the elephant in the fucking room, isn't it?" Michael grunts finally. His voice is thick and Ryan feels suddenly horrified. "What you did to him."

"I didn't do a damn thing," he hisses, but the words hurt like knives.

"Oh, don't fucking act like this isn't entirely your fault," Michael snaps. In his lap, Gavin stirs, and Michael glances down at him. He falls still a moment later and when Michael speaks again his voice is strained with the effort to keep it down. "You tricked him. You made him look like a fool. Gods, you really are one evil fuck, Haywood - I don't know how none of us managed to see it. You spend every night loving him up-"

"What?"

"-and then every day like it's fucking _nothing_ you go back to snapping and snarling at him. Making him feel worthless. Doing everything you can to make sure he knows that you're _better_ than him, more _powerful_ than him-"

"You're _wrong,"_ Ryan snarls. His heart's pounding and he doesn't think he's ever felt this sick in his life. "You are so fucking wrong, Michael, you have no gods damned idea what you're talking about-"

"So you didn't specifically, cunningly, _secretly_ build that entire reactor to humiliate him? You didn't see how he was so fucking hurt by someone he thought he could trust betraying him that he literally destroyed his own mantle? Fucking hell, Ryan."

"It wasn't like that." He clenches his fists so tightly his nails dig into his hand and he feels a pinch as they cut into his skin. "It wasn't like that at all-"

Except now, now he's second-guessing. Gavin hadn't seen it that way, had he? The other man had traded barbs with him, had never taken Ryan's shit lying down and had always fired right back at him. Gavin had come to his door far more often than the other way around and Ryan - Ryan had thought they had something like an understanding. It was a friendly rivalry. Not manipulation at all.

"Did Gavin tell you he felt like that?" he demands.

"He didn't _have_ to," Michael snaps, "I could see-"

"So he _didn't,_ then. Maybe you shouldn't make baseless accusations. I never intended for Gavin to do this to himself." Ryan's so angry now that he's shaking hard. His voice is trembling too and once he would've found it humiliating but now he can hardly bring himself to care. "And I certainly never misled him into thinking I loved him. What there was between us - we both knew what we were getting into. He used to try to one-up me just as often as I tried to one-up him. There was nothing manipulative about it."

"And your trick, then? You did that in secret," Michael says.

Ryan has no answer for that. After a moment Michael huffs and turns away.

"You wanted to break him up. Well, you succeeded. You wanna know what I think of this new mantle? I hate it. We all fucking hate it. He's in pain, even if he won't admit it. You think the mantles just form based on what's useful to the factory at any given moment? They don't. They form based on how _we_ see ourselves. Or maybe you haven't noticed, but you've been changing over the last few weeks, too."

Ryan stares at him.

"What do you mean?" he asks, but it comes out a little too soft and broken.

"Take a look in the fucking mirror. You're overdue." 

Michael looks down then, his energy seeming to drain out of him. He tucks a strand of lank black hair tenderly behind Gavin's ear and the motion makes Ryan's stomach drop.

"Gavin's my best friend," Michael whispers then, and there's pain in his voice too. "He was our fucking sunshine and we've lost that, _he's_ lost that, because you hurt him so fucking badly. Oh, we're getting used to it, but there's not a single one of us who wouldn't swap this Blood Acolyte for the Solar Queen in a fucking second. I don't want to see Gav waste his life away as nothing more than some sort of blood bag for Jeremy's magic. I don't want to see hm dig a knife into his skin like there's nothing fucking wrong with that, like all he's good for is his body to be used. Or maybe that's what you think's best," he spits, "Pure physical pleasure, isn't that right?"

Ryan feels sick.

He turns away, trembling, his appetite gone. Michael's voice is dark with hate and Ryan can't stand it because it's like every thought he's had in the dead of night is coming to life to haunt him. 

"It wasn't like that," he whispers again, but he thinks of the look in Gavin's eyes. The shattering. 

Gods, he misses him.

If he could go back in time and change every fucking choice he's made, he'd do it in a heartbeat. To hell with the nuclear reactor. He doesn't care about that. He cares about those glowing nights and Gavin's skin under his hands and waking up to a warm body at his side. He cares about the little smile Gavin would give him sometimes after a hard day’s work and how there was always a hint of amusement under every insult they exchanged.

He thinks of how he shoved Gavin away earlier today. He'd been angry then, but not at Gavin. At himself. Now he looks down at the broken little body slumbering in Michael's arms and feels a surge of emotion so strong he has to turn away, covering his face.

"I see," he chokes out. "Well, then."

He can't articulate anything more than that. After a moment he takes a shaky breath and rises abruptly from his seat, striding towards his house.

"Ryan," Michael calls. "Wait."

He almost sounds sorry. But Ryan doesn't turn around, just walks as fast as he can to his own house and shuts the door firmly behind him.

-

The dagger bites into Gavin’s forearm. The blood drips, drips into the bowl. It nearly looks black, and suddenly Ryan can’t stop noticing _everything_ \- the unhealthy pallor of his skin, the thick ropy scars that run up and down his arms, the way his face still twists just a little at the first bite of the blade. How when he stops he sways a little before walking aside and sitting down to let his body heal, a slippery trail of red following him.

Both he and Jeremy seem unfazed by it all now. Like it's nothing more than water to mop up, dip into, wipe from their hands even if it leaves red smeared across their skin or caked under their nails.

Ryan watches from afar and flinches at each drop of blood. At home he stands and stares in the mirror and fingers the cloth of his mantle.

Michael's right. He's changing, he just didn't see it until now. 

His mantle is growing tattered and turning to a faded brown. His hair hangs flat and lank against his scalp. Worst of all, there's a smudge of a black cross forming on his forehead, a terrible symbol of penitence written across his brow for all to see.

_Shame._

From noble Dark God to humiliated sinner, wearing his guilt for all to see. Michael must be right. There's no reason his mantle should've changed like this, not when he's still building and contributing to the factory as much as he can. He feels flushed with shame that the others must all have been seeing this for weeks and weeks. Or maybe they haven't. He has been spending a lot of time alone lately, after all.

He reaches up and furiously scrubs at his face, tearing at his hair until he can pull it down to cover the cross. Then slams a fist against the mirror, again and again until it cracks and broken glass bites into his skin. He relishes the sting of pain, clenches his fist and squeezes red blood into his basin, watches it swirl away. Thinks of Gavin, bleeding and bleeding and bleeding out-

(He can't sleep-)

Gavin lies on his back across the altar's basin, head hanging back, arms shredded, head tilted up to the sky and the pale moon above, no sun-

(He can't sleep-)

Blood on his hands, sticky under his boots, spilling across the floor of the engine room. Jeremy's laugh echoes in his ears. How can any of this be funny? He finds himself stopping in his work more often than not, eyes squeezed shut and hands clamped over his ears, wondering if he really can hear the _drip, drip, drip_ across this distance or if he's just imagining it, if it's all in his head, the way he can suddenly smell and taste it-

(He can't sleep-)

"Fuck, Ryan, you look like shit."

He's standing staring vacantly into a chest when the voice rings out behind him. He jumps, on edge, heart pounding instantly as he whirls around. He doesn't know what sort of monster he was expecting - perhaps the one from his nightmares, the one that looks like the Solar Queen but whose pretty golden skin is marred by bleeding wounds and ropy scars.

But it's just Jack standing behind him, gazing at him with a steady concern.

"Sorry, what?" Ryan asks. His voice sounds faint and dull even to his own ears.

"I said you look like shit." Jack's hand is on his arm suddenly, and Ryan jolts. He can't remember the last time one of the others touched him. Jack's hand is very warm and it makes him think of the Solar Queen and how his skin was always hot like he'd held it over a fire, like the fire was _in him_ ,  and he swallows the lump that rises in his throat.

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. Is everything okay?"

Jack's leaning in too close. His voice is soft with a concern Ryan can't imagine he genuinely feels. 

"What do you care?" he hears himself growl, turning away. His head's pounding, he feels light headed, and he suddenly realises he can't remember what he was looking for. What he was doing. Hell, what day it is. Everything's blurred together into a red fog.

"What?"

"You all hate me anyway." It's petty and pissy and he doesn't know why he's admitting it. It's something he'd usually barely let himself dwell on, let alone say out loud. But after all this time he feels like there are no walls left, like his pride has faded away and buried itself with the remains of his mantle. He doesn't know what he looks like. His mirror is broken and he's avoiding so much as glancing at its cracked surface.

"What?" Jack says again, and Ryan looks away, jaw clenched tight. The warm hand shifts to his shoulder and he stiffens. "Ryan, we don't hate you."

"I killed Gavin-"

"What are you talking about? Gavin's fine-"

"No, he's fucking not!" It bursts out of him, close to a roar, and he sees Jack flinch back in surprise. He doesn't know where everyone else is, if they're close enough to hear. He doesn't think he cares. "He's not, and I hate it, and it's my damn fault. You all know it. I know it now, too."

Jack stares at him and Ryan squeezes his eyes shut. His head's pounding hard and there's a roaring pressure in his ears that's making it hard to think. But then Jack squeezes his arm, gently, and when Ryan opens his stinging eyes the other god cups his cheek. His gentle blue eyes gaze into Ryan's and he smells like rich dirt and the faint herby scent of the plants he works with. A familiarity Ryan hadn't realised until now was so comforting.

"We don't hate you. Of course we don't, we never could. We're a family, all of us are." Jack's thumb strokes over Ryan's cheek. "What's going on?"

"I can't sleep," he hears himself choke out. It's pathetic and weak. "I've always had trouble but-"

"It's Gavin," Jack finishes. "Of course it is. Ryan..."

"Go ahead, blame me. Michael does. He's not wrong to. I regret it, okay, is that what you want to fucking hear? If I could undo it I would in a second-"

He breaks off when Jack starts shaking his head.

"I'm not the one who needs to hear that," he whispers, and Ryan stares at him for a moment. It takes a little time for it to register in his exhausted mind. Then he sees Jack's gaze drift to the side of the engine room where the blood altar is, and his heart clenches. He looks away and suddenly feels too acutely aware of the greasiness in his hair, the heaviness of his eyes, how his clothes feel dirty and heavy on his shoulders. Disgusting. But Gavin surely doesn't feel good either, not dressed in those filthy tattered robes, not covered in wounds twenty-four seven.

“Go rest,” Jack says, kindly. “You look exhausted.”

It’s not as easy as that. But Ryan doesn’t have the energy to argue, and he trudges back to his house.

It's afternoon and when he looks out of his window, the bright light of the sun glints off the metal machinery of the engine room. If he closes his eyes he can almost imagine that it's the setting sun, that it's the glow of Gavin as he sleeps opposite. In the afternoon warmth it's somehow easier to wander back to his bed and slump into it, to let his eyes slip shut and listen to the gentle clamour of the others working out there in the factory and pretend that everything is still okay.

-

It's late evening by the time he rises, groggily, and wanders back out.

He feels better after finally getting some sleep, but he knows he must still look a mess. He can feel what a rat's nest his hair is and his whole face itches. When he reaches up and rubs at his forehead his fingers come away stained with something black and ashy. 

It's nearly totally dark by now. The factory's lit with its redstone torches and he can see the silhouettes of the others around the campfire, can hear the ringing sound of their laughter as they catch up over dinner. He feels like he's the creature lurking in the shadows now, feels oddly excluded-

A movement catches his eye. He turns to find Gavin over near the water tanks. He seems to be washing himself, and Ryan bites his lip and heads over to him. He's been so out of it the last few days that right now it feels like he's moving through a dream, every step heavier than it should be.

Gavin's taken his cloak off and laid it beside him. He's sitting by one of the water barrels that they use for washing and he's unwinding the bloodstained bandages from his arms and legs. Ryan watches his pale, thin arms extend up against the night sky, counts each bruised knob on his back as he stretches. Gavin leans forward and draws a bucket of water. He takes one of the soft cloths Michael's been weaving lately and dips it in, beginning to sponge the blood and grime from his skin.

Ryan grabs one of the healing kits from a chest nearby. He approaches from the side and Gavin must see him coming, but doesn't look up. Ryan sits on the other side of the barrel of water and looks down. In its rippling surface he sees his blurred reflection and barely recognises himself. He looks gaunt and exhausted and there's a smudged black cross taking up his entire forehead.

Gavin holds something out and Ryan looks up. The other god's still focused on cleaning his own wounds, but he's holding out a second cloth, and Ryan hesitantly takes it. Their fingers brush and Gavin's are cold as ice. He nods in thanks and begins to wipe his own face clean.

They sit for a little while in silence. Then Gavin reaches for the healing kit and takes out a clean bandage, moving to wrap it around his arm. On impulse, Ryan reaches out and stops him with a hand on his wrist.

"Let me," he hears himself say.

Gavin's eyes widen. But he doesn't pull away as Ryan takes the bandage from his hand, and he doesn't flinch when Ryan moves to sit next to him instead. Ryan feels his heart quicken in his chest. It's the closest he's been to Gavin of his own will in a long, long time, and he can see his own hands trembling in a way he'd once have been mortified about.

But now he reaches and takes Gavin's cold hand in his, tugging it towards him. He turns the other man's arm over and hisses in sympathy. Gavin's skin is covered in thin scores of wounds where he cut himself with the sacrificial dagger - neat, precise lines designed to maximise the amount of blood that spilled out. They're already beginning to heal, but Ryan still carefully scoops out a dollop of ointment and rubs it over the withered, bruised skin.

He can sense how surprised Gavin is. The other man is breathing as quietly as possible, like he doesn't want to disturb Ryan. Ryan bites his lip, remembering how he shoved Gavin away the last time they were this close. _Horrid creature._ The guilt is heavy in his gut - but Gavin lets him bind his wounds in silence, closing his eyes as Ryan's hands run over faded old scars. There's not an inch of skin unmarred.

"Thank you," Ryan whispers after a moment.

Gavin's yellow eyes open and regard him quizzically.

"For what you did in the Underworld," Ryan says. "Saving me from those monsters. You risked your life and got hurt because of it. I wasn't very grateful last time, but I should have been. There was no reason you should've done it. I hardly deserved your help. Hell, it'd have been understandable if you'd deliberately left me to die."

Gavin's gaze flickers away. He turns his head, hair hanging over his face, and Ryan stares helplessly at him. He's so fucking quiet nowadays and Ryan can't believe how much he misses the sun god's constant, inane chatter. The squeaks and squeals and silly questions. The Solar Queen was never afraid to speak, never held his tongue. For how many times Ryan used to tell him to shut up he never dreamed how much this silence would wear on him.

_Say something,_ he wants to plead, _anything._ He wants to take Gavin by the shoulders and, and - and pull him close, to kiss the top of his head and wrap his arms around his mangled form, to whisper _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry_ until he knows the other man believes it, until the cross on his forehead never appears again. 

But he can't bring himself to do it.

He doesn't know why, just that everything _hurts_ and the god sitting next to him is so far from the Gavin he loves that it feels like a fucking stranger. He finishes wrapping Gavin's wounds but can't quite bring himself to pull away yet. Instead, he reaches out and tucks a strand of Gavin's hair behind his ear.

Gavin gasps, jumping a little. It was too tender a motion, meant too much. He stares at Ryan, who has no idea what to say. After a moment they awkwardly start to pack up; emptying the bucket, folding the rags to wash later. He doesn't want Gavin to go, doesn't want to lose whatever chance they have here. But he doesn't know what to say, and every word shrivels in his mouth and turns to dust, and finally - finally-

Finally Gavin turns like he's gonna go to join the others, and Ryan knows it's now or never, and before he can stop himself be blurts out:

"I miss you."

Gavin freezes. He glances back over his shoulder and stares at Ryan like he's not sure he even heard him correctly. Ryan stares back at him - arms hanging by his sides, eyes wide. He knows everything must be written across his face now, no pride keeping his mask up. Everything. His pain, guilt, shame, sadness, fear. How badly he wants things to go back to how they were. How much he hates himself for ruining them.

Gavin's lips part a little. Ryan's heart skips a beat, thinking he's going to reply. Then Gavin looks down, and shuffles his feet, and scurries back to the others. Ryan stares after him feeling like a black balloon filled with all the hate and anger has floated away out of his chest and left a gaping cavity, something cleansed but hollow, empty, _empty-_

Then Gavin turns abruptly, and walks back over to him, his eyes shining, a purpose in his footsteps. Before Ryan can quite react Gavin's hands are on his shoulders, pushing him to sit down again.

"Gavin?" Ryan begins softly, but Gavin doesn't answer. He just reaches up and touches Ryan's hair - Ryan stiffens, electric tingles running through his entire body - and then Gavin starts to card it through his fingers. It takes Ryan a second to realise what he's doing.

He's braiding it.

The strands are knotted and dry after Ryan spent so long barely taking care of himself. But under Gavin's touch they seem to transform as he runs his fingers through them, smoothing out the tangles, and then begins to pull them tightly back against from his head into the same neat braid he used to wear as the Dark God. He feels himself transform, feels his shoulders lift and back straighten until he's sitting tall and noble like he used to. 

Gavin ties off the braid with a piece of black ribbon and then reaches out and straightens Ryan's mantle on his shoulders. He takes the healing kit and starts fiddling with it and when Ryan looks down, he's sewing the patchy holes in the mantle back together. Under his touch it seems to fade again from its shabby brown to the striking black that it used to be. Gavin reaches out and straightens the brooch holding it together at the front and Ryan feels like a fog's lifted from his mind. Like he's the clear-headed Dark God again, put together and neat. _Under Gavin's touch._

He doesn't know what to say.

Gavin steps back, a little shyly - but Ryan reaches out and catches his hand. He tugs Gavin closer without thinking about it and reaches up, touching his cheek tenderly. It's softer and sweeter than he ever acted even before this all happened, and he sees the way Gavin's eyes widen, senses his shock. Then he lets his hands slip away, and Gavin steps back, and like the flicker of a candle he's gone again, retreating back away into the factory, leaving Ryan standing there not quite knowing what's ahead. Above them the moon shines cold and still.

-

In Ryan's dreams they wake up one morning and the sky is blood-red and the sun is growing bigger and bigger and the world getting hotter and hotter around them until they become convinced that it is going to consume them.

"Destroy it!" he and Jeremy are trying to argue. They've built a ray of destruction together and it can blow anything up. "Kill it before it kills us!"

"It's the fucking sun, you can't destroy it. We'll all freeze to death," Michael's snapping, and he sounds so annoyed rather than panicked that for some reason it's hilarious. Ryan wakes up choking on his own hysterical laughter with tears leaking down his cheeks, irrationally distressed because in the dream Gavin was not there, didn't even exist, had never been there at all.

The day feels sluggish and slow, too-humid, and when he walks out into the factory the others are all gathered in the engine room and there's a horrible smell in the air.

"Are the fucking latrines broken again?" Michael demands - he's only just leaving his house too - but the others all turn as they approach and their faces are pinched and worried.

"Ryan, thank heavens you're here," Jack says, beckoning him closer. Ryan sees his eyes run over him and knows he must be noticing how his mantle's reformed as though it was never broken in the first place, but he doesn't comment. "Have a look at this."

"What is it?" he asks, and pushes forward only to freeze.

His nuclear reactor seems to have been unknowingly eating away at the wooden platform underneath it. Dark, toxic waste is leaking sluggishly from the bottom and it's corroded right through the platform to drip onto the farm that's on the level below it. Half of Jack's crops look like they've just suffered an acid rain; they're burned and blackened and totally destroyed. There's a horrible, chemical smell in the air that burns Ryan's throat when he breathes in.

"Your machine is leaking," Jeremy announces, rather pointlessly.

"Fuck," is all Ryan can really say. He's not angry or even annoyed really. Once he would've been, but not now. Now this all just feels like another page in a story that he's realised is quite beyond his control. He shuts the machine off and its rhythmic _thump, thump, rattle_ fades with a dying groan. A tense silence follows.

"I'll clean this up," Ryan says flatly.

"We can't use this for power any more," Geoff says nervously, "It's too dangerous."

"We can go back to the generators we had before," Jack suggests.

"It won't be enough," Ryan says, and they all turn to him expectedly. Standing a little way behind Jeremy is Gavin, yellow eyes peering up at Ryan from under his tattered cowl. It all feels like it's meant to be, and he swallows and says, "Gavin."

Everyone twists to look at him and Ryan nods.

"Your solar," he says, "It was clean energy. It was producing enough to run our machines. Where'd they all go?"

The solar panels vanished from the platform a long time ago and he never bothered to inquire what'd happened to them. Now as all eyes turn to Gavin he ducks his head again so his hair hides his face.

"Gav?" Michael prompts gently, nudging him with one elbow. His own face has lit up and Ryan knows this is pretty much a dream come fucking true for him. It feels like one for Ryan, too. In a human society perhaps it would even be considered the work of the gods.

"I... I put most of them in storage. A few got broken when I did. But I can repair them," Gavin says quietly, "Although is solar really the best option? Ryan could... could come up with something else maybe, something better-"

"The fuels my machines run on will always have the risk of contamination if they're producing at high enough rates to be our main power source," Ryan admits. "I'll add more safeguards now, of course, but they shouldn't be our only option. It would be better to reinstall the solar as a backup even if I do get these repaired. Is that okay with you?"

"Of course," Gavin says. He looks quite shellshocked and Ryan sees the others glancing at each other, unsure what to do or say. They're all processing it a bit. He is too. After giving up hope that things could ever change back he still isn't quite getting used to the idea yet that things really can be fixed. That they _will_ be.

"Great! Then you can get right on that. We have all the materials if you need anything new." He maybe sounds a little too excited, but he can't bring himself to care - and no one comments. Jack and Geoff are beaming, and Michael has his arm around Gavin's shoulders jostling him in excitement, and even Jeremy's nodding with a pleased look in his eyes. Gavin's own lips, barely visible under the shadow of his hood, twitch upwards slightly, and Ryan feels himself begin to grow warm again.

-

Gavin works hard all the rest of that day and late into the night.

Weeks of doing nothing but donate blood don't seem to have mattered. He's still as familiar and skilled with the solar energy as he was before and it's mesmerising to watch him piece them back together, repair them, arrange them strategically around the engine room to catch as much sunlight as possible. Ryan's watching him discreetly from where he's cleaning up the toxic mess; he notices the others passing by more often than they usually do as well, keeping an eye on how things are going.

The shards of mirrors shimmer like stars in the sunlight and as Gavin works his tattered black hood falls away and disintegrates, the bandages crumble from his arms. His skin, once white as the dead, begins to regain its golden glow, and his hair springs back to its previous blonde halo. It's a slow transformation, but as it goes on even the day around them seems to grow brighter, the clouds drifting away from the overcast sky, the weather growing warmer and drier. 

It's impossible to describe what it feels like for Ryan to see him return. What he does know is that each time he looks over and catches a glimpse of blonde hair or bright glow or the sight of Gavin's light, gauzy mantle whipping about in the fresh spring breeze, he feels his heart pound a little harder and has to push back the desire to run over to him and scoop him up in his arms. To whisper _welcome back, welcome home_ , and hug him tight and never let him go again.

_I missed you._

He sees Geoff pass by and lean in and jostle Gavin's shoulder, pulling him against his side in a half-hug and the two of them laugh together over something. Jack visits later on, a fond smile on his face as he brings Gavin a glass of cold, frothing apple juice and some lunch. The two of them eat together sitting on the edge of the platform, beautiful with the sunlight glinting off their hair. Michael hangs around all day bringing Gavin materials or helping him carry things, and he keeps his mask off, leaving his wide grin on display for all to see. And Jeremy, Jeremy too comes by now and then, and while some part of Ryan still resents him a little for using Gavin the way he did, he knows it wasn't malicious, knows that neither Gavin nor Jeremy see it that way. He can tell it brought them closer, too, and from the way Jeremy keeps touching Gavin's mantle and ruffling his hair that he's happy for this change as well.

But he doesn't approach.

He feels awkward now. It's hard to reconcile the Solar Queen and the Blood Acolyte as the same person, and they parted on such terrible terms that it feels like they haven’t made up yet. That they’re picking up right where they left off. He isn’t sure how to approach or what to say and as the sun begins to set he grows more and more nervous.

_But something will happen tonight. It has to._

-

The sun sets. They all ate dinner alone and now the others are heading home, but Gavin’s still working, seeming determined to finish as much as he can. As the engine room grows dark and shadowed he starts to glow again, absently, where he’s sitting cross-legged and hunched over one of his photovoltaic cells.

Ryan’s just putting the last of the cleaning supplies away when he looks up and sees it. He freezes.

He’s dreamed of this the last few weeks. Looking out his window to see that welcoming yellow light, to know that the dark is being held at bay for another night, that they’re safe here together. The sight of it makes tears well in his eyes and a lump rise in his throat and as he stares longingly across at the Solar Queen it feels like the weight of their entire universe is bearing down on him.

_He’s back-_

_You did this-_

_Go to him-_

_You can’t-_

_You want him. You need him. You_ love _him_. 

The thought is clearer than it’s ever been and he hears the sudden sound of breaking glass, tinkling to the floor right near him. He looks down to see that the brooch of black glass that holds his mantle together has shattered - but there’s a new piece forming in the golden pin in its place, a piece that swirls with dark red and blue and green and is speckled with tiny, glimmering stars, like a tiny galaxy trapped in a globe. 

_The fuck?_

He unclasps it and lifts it up to examine it closer, turning it over and over in his hands. It’s beautiful -  they're surrounded by space, floating up here as they are, but all too often it feels like nothing but void. He stands, transfixed, holding it up to examine it in the moonlight. Like everything about the mantles it feels like a piece of him, something that here and now he can be proud of.

"Ryan?"

He jumps and turns to see Gavin walking towards him. Ryan’s breath catches in his throat - under the moonlight he looks ethereal, with his hair clean and swept back from his face, glowing gently. 

He's not exactly like he was before.

His pure white tunic is black instead, velvety and hanging over his body in gentle folds. His gold jewellery is studded instead with obsidian. He looks less innocent, more battle-hardened but no less beautiful. But he's back, and Ryan stares, speechless, as he comes up in front of him and smiles shyly.

"Your mantle," Gavin whispers. "Can I...?"

Ryan nods, and Gavin reaches out and takes the brooch. He gasps softly as he examines it, eyes wide, and then glances up at Ryan again.

"It's beautiful," he says softly, and reaches to pin it to Ryan's cloak again. Ryan stands very still, too-aware of the other man's hands on him - and how warm Gavin is. After his icy touch earlier it's a relief.

Gavin slips the clasp shut but doesn't step back. He looks tentatively up at Ryan, who stares back at him.

"I wanted to come talk to you earlier," he blurts out. It's a strange feeling to be the one who's too-vulnerable, who isn't quite sure what he's saying, but somehow with Gavin it's easy to let himself. "I just - couldn't find the right time."

"I was waiting for you," Gavin admits. "But here's good, isn't it?"

"Here's good," Ryan whispers, and ducks his head. "I'm sorry, Gavin. I'm so sorry. I said some terrible things to you because I was annoyed and proud and confused about what I was feeling. It was easier to push you away than it was to face up to the fact that I wanted you more than I could say. My prank was cruel and I never intended things to go that far, but it's not an excuse. I hated myself after. I hate how badly you got hurt. I'm glad you're back, now. And I promise, it won't happen again. I was being an idiot-"

He breaks off when Gavin's hand folds over his.

"It's okay," he murmurs.

"It's not," Ryan insists. "I hurt you. And that's the last thing I want to do now."

A flicker of a smile crosses Gavin’s face.

"I was upset," he admits, "Because I knew we fought all the time but I... I thought you and I had something special, you know? And when you did that I figured I'd just made a fool of myself and you really did hate me after all. And I know that I'm younger than a lot of you, that I'm less experienced - I never wanted to be useless. At least as the Blood Acolyte I was still contributing to the factory."

"You're very useful," Ryan says, "More than me at times. It's not just about being the most efficient, it's about building our pantheon as well as the world. And you made everything warmer, happier. I think everyone missed that while you were gone."

"Thanks," Gavin whispers. "And it's okay, I forgive you. I know you didn't mean it really, not like that. I know you didn't want me to be completely gone."

"Never," Ryan says, and Gavin reaches up and cups his cheek with a beatific smile. 

"I'm glad I'm back too," he says, "And I... I'm glad we're talking again. You were avoiding me so much before that even when I felt a little better hanging out with the others, it was never the same."

Ryan's heart skips a beat. Gavin's hand starts to slip away as he ducks his head, shyly, but on impulse Ryan catches it and steps a little closer. Gavin's eyes widen, but he's still smiling, smiling, and when Ryan leans in slowly he tilts his head back and rises on his toes to meet him.

It's the first time they've kissed.

Even when they were sleeping together their lips never met; there were harsh bites or nails scraping but not this, never anything so intimate. Now, as he pulls Gavin into his arms and they meet in a gentle kiss, he feels an electric tingle spread across his whole body and a warmth settle in his chest. It feels _right_ \- Gavin's soft and warm and they seem to fit together perfectly, and he can't believe he didn't see it before.

When they pull apart Ryan still can't let him go, not quite yet. He presses kisses to Gavin's hair, his eyelids, his cheek and down the side of his neck. He hears the sun god gasp, then giggle, his hands resting on Ryan's shoulders to steady himself.

"Ryan!" he exclaims suddenly, "Your cape."

Ryan pulls away from him and twists to look. The pitch-black material of his mantle is slowly beginning to glow, swirls of colour forming, more sparkling dots of stars appearing in the material. He runs his hands over it in wonder, mesmerised by the beauty of it, then turns to look at Gavin, who seems similarly shocked.

"But I... I haven't changed what I do," is all Ryan can really say.

"It's not always just about what we do," Gavin murmurs, but then wraps his arms around Ryan's waist and rests his head against his chest. "You became the Dark God really quickly. At the start you barely spoke to any of us."

"I'm used to others in the Pantheon wanting to start wars."

"You trust us now, though, don't you?"

"Of course," Ryan says, and catches Gavin's smile as he wraps his arms protectively around him again. His heart's hammering - it's nerve-wracking, a change like this after he was so secure in his mantle for so long. But he traces the scars on Gavin's arms - fading now, nearly gone, replaced by smooth golden skin - and then hugs him closer, chin resting on the top of his head, and looks again at the void around them.

Night is falling. Below them, the monsters' song is starting up again. But Gavin is warm in his arms, his glow a reassuring light in the darkness, and he knows that tonight he will sleep easily, and it's easier to look past the void to see the stars.


End file.
